Whenever my husband and I hold court, there are always those women who ask me how they can be more like me. They kneel before my throne, see me decked out in my specially commissioned silk dress, and wonder how they, too, can be princesses. I certainly don’t blame them. I’m beautiful, I’m rich, and I’m married to the future king. If I were them, I’d want to be more like me, too.

Gosh, Rapunzel, they say, their eyes big. Can’t you tell us how you did it? Can’t you tell us how you married the prince?

You know, it really wasn’t even that hard. A lot of it was thanks to my parents. If they hadn’t been crazy enough to want to live next to that witch Mother Gothel and if my mother hadn’t gone nearly insane with wanting one single, barely desirable weed that she has (or so I’ve heard) never eaten since and if my father hadn’t been stupid enough to promise me away to a creepy old lady who he barely knew, then I wouldn’t be here.

But I guess you can’t change your parents, can you? No, no, I suppose not. Too bad. That really is the easiest way. No matter, though. You just need to find a tower. I’ve heard they’ve become quite plentiful since my rise to fame, but if you’re desperate, I think Mother Gothel is doing real estate somewhere down south and would be happy to help out. I suggest one without any doors or stairs and definitely one with just a single window (those are Mother Gothel’s specialty). Some come pre-furnished, or so I’ve heard, but stock up well before getting a friend to brick over the door. You might also want to make sure this friend checks in on you once in a while and offers you food, water, and other such necessities.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. You better have long hair. Like, really long. I’ve kept mine much shorter as of late so that my husband and the servants won’t trip on it as I walk around the castle. But if you’re seeking rescue by prince, you better have hair that can travel 20 ells (or 70 feet, for all you commoners). That’s the only way your man will be able to reach you. There just aren’t rock climbing princes in this day and age, and you’ve got to help them out as much as you can.

And if you’re going to have the hair, you better have a secret code so that you only let up the good guys, like that friend of yours with the food. I still remember mine after all the times I heard Mother Gothel calling it up: Oh Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair! It took my husband a while to figure that one out (again, thank goodness for Mother Gothel), so you may want to choose a simpler one, something that the prince might be able to just stumble upon, bless his soul. I’d suggest a simple hello? Or who’s there?

While you’re waiting in your tower for the prince to figure out that you exist, brush your hair a lot. It’s cathartic. And it will make you beautiful. Also, sing. Every maiden seeking a prince must be able to sing. It’s the only way to know he’s worthy of your undying devotion. A good prince will love you for two things: your beauty and your voice. One without the other is worthless. So, take lessons from the birds and have that friend of yours send up some sheet music, because you have a kingdom to win and the voice is half the battle.

And, well, I guess that’s it really. If you have long hair, sing like an angel, and trust the guy that recognizes the beauty of your voice as much as the beauty of your face, you’re all set and the prince is basically yours. Of course, he may have some trouble getting down from the tower (as you will, unless that friend of yours is really good at catching falling objects), so double check that your tears have healing powers – and that you can cry with good aim. This will prevent blindness or any other malady that should befall your poor prince in his messy attempt to rescue you.

But, once he does rescue you and you rediscover each other some years down the line and you have had his kids out of wedlock and alone in the wilderness and you have finally healed him with your magic tears, then you can live happily ever after in your castle and silk dresses.